Harry Potter's Life of Doom
by Thermopyle
Summary: Harry Potter's life has always been unspeakably tragic. Now it's taken a turn for the worse. AU
1. Prologue

There came a day when the unthinkable happened. Lord Voldemort, otherwise known as He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, was defeated by a year-old child named Hairy Potter. The entire world was shocked. Unfortunately, young Harry Potter failed to save his parents, his nihilistic tendencies making him instead opt to stay out of the whole affair until Voldemort attacked him personally. Harry Potter quickly struck down the evil villain and became known as The Boy Who Lived. And thus, our story starts.  
  
Dumbledore, the wise old man who invented Lucky Charms, spoke seriously. "This is bad. Harry Potter needs a home, but his parents are dead. Whatever shall we do?"  
  
"I know!" said the ghost of Voldemort. "Lets stick him with some magic-haters!"  
  
And so they did that.  
  
When Petunia Dursley opened her door that evening in response to an odd scratching noise, she saw an old man and a ghost skulking away as quickly as such things do. "Drat!" she said, spotting the old man. "It's Dumbledore! I hate that guy! Stupid wizard!" She quickly shut the door, slamming it as hard as she could in her anger.  
  
However, the door did not shut.  
  
She slammed it again, and then again, and again, and again, but still the door would not shut. Finally, in a flumox, she looked at the doorway to see what the problem was. She screamed in horror at what she saw. There, in the doorway, was a little baby.  
  
Harry Potter, bashed to a bloody pulp by the fierce door-closing tendencies of his aunt, crawled forward and slobbered on Petunia's shoe.  
  
And so it was that Harry Potter came to live with the Dursleys. 


	2. Chapter One

I stared at the ceiling of my cupboard under the stairs on the night of my birthday, waiting for midnight. I waited, and waited, and waited, and then realized that my Uncle had locked me in without a watch or clock. I went to sleep wishing I wasn't so stupid. 

The next morning I was let out of my cupboard. I made breakfast, just as I always do, and the Dursleys ate it. What came next was something too fantastic for me to ever imagine. 

"Boy!" said Uncle Vernon. "Go get the mail!" 

"Yeah, boy!" chimed in Aunt Petunia. "Get the mail!" 

"Yes, master, mistress," I said quickly, knowing my place. I shambled to the doorway, not wanting to get a whooping. 

When I got to the door, I saw a pile of mail on the floor. On top was a letter that said: 

Poor Harry Potter  
Cupboard Under The Stairs  
The Dursleys' 

I froze, not knowing what to do. I'd never left the house before--how could anybody know my name? How could anybody know my secret name for myself? I'd never told the Dursleys that I had changed my name to Poor Harry Potter. The letter made me think of the evil M word--M-E-L-V-I-N, I think it is. The Dursleys were never really clear on what the M word was. The letter was very suspicious. I walked back to the dining room, taking the mail with me. 

"Master, Mistress, this unworthy one has recieved mail. What should he do?" I said, relying on them to think for me because they knew better anyway. 

As soon as I said the words, I realized I had made a mistake. I cringed, awaiting punishment, and knowing it would be harsh. I'm so stupid. 

"Stupid boy!" roared Master Vernon. "You know you aren't allowed to read except when cooking!" He stalked lithely over to me as I trembled in fear and self-hatred. "You know what's coming, don't you, you little monster?" he hissed into my ear. 

"Yes, master," I said, tears leaking out of my eyes. I knew what was next. 

And so it was that Harry Potter prepared for his horrible fate. 


	3. Chapter Two

Master Vernon opened the door to The Room, a malicious smirk upon his face, and gestured for me to enter. "Go get ready, boy. It won't be long."  
  
I nodded, stepped inside, and he slammed the door shut behind me. It only opened from the outside--the inside didn't even have a knob. I pulled off my clothes, keeping my eyes fixed to the floor as I did so. Mirrors covered the walls and ceiling; only the floor is safe from my reflection. I hate mirrors. I hate my seven-foot, godlike physique and classic features. I don't deserve to look so good.  
  
I climbed into the king sized bed that was in the middle of the room. The sheets were crimson silk, and pillows of varying firmness covered one half of the matress. I thought about what they were used for and shuddered.  
  
I waited in terror, dreading what was to come. Finally, after what seemed like hours, the door opened.  
  
And so it was that Harry Potter suffered a cliffhanger.  
  
AN: Like, wow, it's been days since my last chapter! I'm soryr it's been so long, my house was flooded when the septic system exploaded and so I didn't have internet access for a while. I'll post more later! 


	4. Chapter Three

My teacher, Mrs. Quim, burst into the room, tearing her clothes off in a frenzy of sexual fever. "Mr. Potter!" she exclaimed heartily. "You've been a bad boy!" Her breathing was fast and furious and hot and heavy, and those quick pants conveyed the need that burned within the molten depths of her very sole. "I'm going to punish you now, Mr. Potter!" she sighed brazenly while ripping her chest bindings into tiny scraps of ripped chest binding. "Are you ready, Mr. Potter?" she demanded while flipping her shoes across the room to smash into a mirror, causing the glass to shatter and scatter across the floor as she walked across the fragments carelessly, her feet bursting into fleshy masses of bloody athlete's foot. She slinked forward like a great saber-toothed tiger, danger screaming from her being like a shot ringing out in the darkness of a stormy winter morning, and snarled, "Here I come, Mr. Potter!" while leaping upon him with a snapping of teeth and clenching of furious, flesh-rending claws.  
  
"Aaiii!!!!" I screamed in anguished horror, the consquences of my unauthorized reading bursting upon me in a fit of sudden comprehension and leaving me with a great self-hatred that swelled from within me like a thick acidic Biles that threatened to devour me instantly and leave me as nothing but a few trace elements floating in a sea of abhorant liquids that were good for nothing but advertising the ultimate fate of worthless pathetic slaves who don't know their rightful place in this glorious world that generous people like Master Vernon and Mistress Petunia allowed us to coexist with them in. "Aaiii!" I screamed again at the temultuous emotions flowing from within me like a great river of boiling, destructive lava that flowed through a tiny village of helpless peasents who were too depressed at the sudden turn of events to even run away and so burned and melted alive down to the last man, woman, child, dog, chicken, and even the one stray bunny that a cute, innocent little girl named Sarah had been taking care of before she boiled alive by jumping into her swimming pool in an poorly-concieved attempt to escape the mortal fate that had so quickly come upon her without warning. A lone sparrow of thought escaped from the scene of horrific destruction, and that thought mocked the perversion of my deviant sexual nature and the way Mrs. Quim's righteously bountiful form aroused me despite the fact that I'm a self-professed homosexual with a long history of peeping excitedly on Master Cousin Dudley and taking liberties with the holy acreage of his most delicate of laundred items, which I am most honored to be given the priveledge of cleaning. "Aaiii!!!" I screamed at the horror of it all.  
  
And so it was that Harry Potter suffered deservedly for his sins. 


End file.
